


Anything From You

by thewriterinpink



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh the Abridged Series, Yu-Gi-Oh! Series
Genre: Affection, Barebacking, Blow Jobs, Established Relationship, Kissing, M/M, Marking, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Riding, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-22
Updated: 2018-02-22
Packaged: 2019-03-20 16:04:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13721187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewriterinpink/pseuds/thewriterinpink
Summary: Bakura has existed for five thousand years and the only thing he's learned from it is that he can hold the amount of patience he has in a teaspoon; it's that nonexistent.But it's even worse being under Marik like this, to have what he wants and craves so close that he can barely think coherent, let alone wait. They've been dating for almost half a year now, but Bakura feels like it's the first time he's been in Marik's bed like this all over again and he has no control. He wants it all.He can say this much; Marik thinks he knows what Bakura wants, needs, more than Bakura himself does. He can't say Marik's ever been wrong. That's the worst part about this.





	Anything From You

**Author's Note:**

> Ever since Marik was revealed to be an ass man, I knew I would one day write him eating ass. It was an obvious step forward. Guess I can mark that off my bucket list XD.
> 
> Anyway, please enjoy this highly indulgent scenario that blew up into a full one-shot of indulgences.

Gentle lips trail chaste kisses down Bakura's chest while purposeful hands caress his thighs. It's all too slow and meaningful and Bakura doesn't like it. He pulls at Marik's hair and gets a small murmur of complaint.

 

“Marik, hurry up.”

 

There's a small puff of warm breath against his skin and Marik promptly ignores him, going back to his slow task of kisses and strokes. He stays in one place though because Bakura's still got a hold of his hair and now it's just going to take even longer if he doesn't even move. They're both stubborn, but once Marik has got an idea in his head there's no way anyone could convince him to change his mind. Bakura knows this more than anyone. With a frustrated breath, Bakura lets up on his grip and ignores the triumphant grin pressing into his ribs.

 

It's not that he hates this, not really, it's just that he's _impatient_. Bakura has existed for five thousand years and the only thing he's learned from it is that he can hold the amount of patience he has in a teaspoon; it's that nonexistent.

 

But it's even worse being under Marik like this, to have what he wants and craves so close that he can barely think coherent, let alone _wait_. They've been dating for almost half a year now, but Bakura feels like it's the first time he's been in Marik's bed like this all over again and he has no control. He wants it all. 

 

Every sexual encounter he's had with Marik has gone this way for Bakura and they've all went the way Marik wanted them to in the end. Marik can't be coaxed, he can't be manipulated, he can't be controlled. All Bakura's ever been able to do with him from the whole time Bakura's known him is following him where ever he wants to go and hope for the best outcome.

 

He can say this much; Marik thinks he knows what Bakura wants, _needs,_ more than Bakura himself does. He can't say Marik's ever been wrong. That's the worst part about this.

  

Marik's moved up Bakura's body now and he's added tongue to the equation. It's a well-crafted decision and Bakura sighs into it as Marik's tongue meets one of his nipples. The tongue is slow, like everything else Marik's been performing, but it seems to be more pleasurable that way. He brings his hands back to Marik's hair but doesn't pull this time, instead pressing Marik's face closer, eager for something other than chasteness.

 

Marik is smiling. He's always smiling, at least around Bakura. Bakura doesn't know why; no one's ever been this happy to be around him before. If Marik wasn't so genuine all the time, Bakura knows he'd be suspicious.

 

One of Marik's hands stroke up Bakura's body as he sucks and licks and Bakura quickly grabs it and forces it onto his other nipple, guiding Marik's uncooperative fingers through the motions of pleasing him. Marik's laughter is muffled and his fingers twitch in Bakura's hold. Bakura lets go of it and is glad to find Marik give in to at least this.

 

“Silly Kitty,” is muttered warm and wet against a perked nipple, but Bakura's too preoccupied to notice or care.

 

The nickname has stuck anyway. Bakura has found himself respond to it a few times before and he hopes no one but Marik ever knows that. It's just plain embarrassing.

 

Marik shifts his hips down unexpectedly and his cock brushes Bakura's slightly raised thigh. Bakura's quick to take advantage of this, arching his body up into Marik and granting Marik more friction. His partner is quick to pull away though, leaning fully off of Bakura, hands on either side of Bakura's head, and staring down at him silently. Attentively.

 

“I've got an idea.”

 

Those words give Bakura pause because a normal Marik Idea can be a very bad idea, but they're in the middle of sex and Marik hasn't steered him wrong before with this. He decides to give him the benefit of the doubt, even if he has no idea what Marik's idea could entail after deliberately leaving Bakura's goodwill to rot like that.

 

“What is it?”

 

Marik doesn't answer. He leans back and scoots until he's hovering near Bakura's legs. Then he opens them freely like he owns the key to the establishment. Bakura licks his lips.

 

“Yes, please,” he says without any actual understanding of what Marik plans to do. He hopes Marik is going to have his way with him; it doesn't really explain Marik's previous words which implied something new but he can dream.

 

Marik looks down between Bakura's parted legs like he's never seen it before which is a damn lie. He looks the slightest bit nervous which is odd. They've done this before.

 

“Marik?”

 

His words startle Marik out of his musings and he flashes Bakura a smile.

 

“I'm about to do something _really_ silly. You might laugh at me.”

 

Bakura raises an eyebrow. Bakura laughs at Marik all the time, he doesn't see why Marik would worry about that now.

 

“I'll laugh _with_ you,” he counters and Marik thinks about it and then seems to agree. He sighs like the whole world is on his shoulders and then settles _his face_ between Bakura's legs. Bakura tenses, confused and aroused at the sight.

 

“Mar--”

 

“Just don't make fun of me for this, Fluffy. I've wanted to do this for a _long time_. You know what I like.”

 

Like so many times before, Bakura has no idea what Marik is getting at. He sometimes feels like Marik's brain moves so fast he forgets to supply adequate information to anyone he may be with. Bakura can never follow Marik's thinking process if he only tells him the conclusion and nothing else.

 

Marik's hands are on him and they're too hot against Bakura's skin. His heart is picking up speed. He tries to figure out what might be happening while simultaneously having an inkling of what it might be.

 

Because, after all, as Marik said, Bakura knows what he likes.

 

Marik stalls between his legs like he's waiting for a response but Bakura's tongue feels too heavy and jaw too tight. He only nods quickly in vague as hell encouragement. Marik makes him completely useless.

 

Marik breathes out, grips Bakura's butt cheeks in a familiar vice and then darts forward, pressing his face too close and yes, this is going exactly where Bakura hoped it was going.

 

Bakura breathes quickly, excitedly, when Marik's wet tongue comes in contact with his hole. It's tentative and unsure of itself, but clearly glad to be there. The hands on his butt squeeze and move the cheeks aside and Marik's hot breath is sharp and desperate. It's almost like Marik was dying to do this.

 

Bakura's lips quirk up into a lustful smirk and he peers down at his boyfriend with half-lidded affection.

 

_You only had to go for it. I'm open to anything from you, you must know that._

 

There's no laughter forthcoming. Marik's an idiot. Like always.

 

Marik glances up at him. It's almost shy if Marik is even capable of having enough awareness to feel such an emotion. His purple gaze is dark though and something in Bakura's own expression must spur him on because his tongue works Bakura open with much more confidence. He closes his eyes in deep focus as he's prone to do when he's trying hard to do something to the best of his abilities; drowning out everything else so only the one task remains.

 

Bakura moans freely, thrusting back on Marik's tongue and Marik seems to like that if the answering moan of his own is any indicator. That's good because Bakura was going to do it again anyway.

 

Bakura's legs are already stretched out on either side of Marik, but he pulls them away even farther until it would probably hurt if he was the type to register pain as anything other than pleasurable. Marik has more room this way and Bakura coaxes him closer with both his hands to the back of Marik's head.

 

Bakura licks his lips and throws his head back in pleasure as Marik's tongue gains a better angle, digging in deeper. Then he moans loudly just so Marik knows he's doing it right.

 

Marik is nothing if not thorough. He's always been frustratingly on the mark of where Bakura needs to be touched to feel a certain way and he never lets up until he's satisfied. Marik will probably not be satisfied with this until his tongue has managed to reach every crevice that he possibly can and then he'll make certain that Bakura cums from this alone. A particular twist of Marik's tongue occurs and Bakura's completely certain he will.

 

As he's already discovered earlier that Marik likes it, Bakura has no qualms about rocking against the warmth inside of him without pause. He's curious of how much Marik can take the onslaught, but since this is Marik and not just an average lay Bakura's picked up from a seedy bar, he doubts Marik can't handle it. And if he couldn't, he'd certainly learn fast to do so. Marik never gave up on anything. It was a good quality of his.

 

His butt is now slick with saliva; he can feel its slow spread from Marik's clumsy and rushed movements, trying to keep up with Bakura. It reminds Bakura of their first kiss, which had had way more saliva than necessary from Marik's part. It had been Marik's first kiss, so it had been kind of expected, but Bakura knows he had been no help and had been overwhelming Marik with his own desperation. Still, Marik never complained and he isn't going to now either. Marik just rises to every challenge laid before him with zeal and confidence. He's always bound to find a lead in their dance somehow; it was always only a matter of time.

 

Nails dig quite suddenly into his flesh, hard and biting, and Bakura cries out, arching off the bed. Marik doesn't relent on his grip, strong and masterful, and he sucks, not letting up on that either. It is quite obvious that Marik is taking this to its inevitable end. Bakura tries to catch his breath, hardly realizing his grip on Marik has grown firm, fingers knotted into the silky smooth hair. He pulls and Marik's teeth are involved for the slightest second, brushing against sensitive skin and nipping unintentionally. Bakura shakes, moans and other nonsense slipping past his lips unfiltered.

 

“M-Marik, oh, d-don't stop that, go back to that. You were on the right track there, love.”

 

There's always a fifty/fifty chance of Marik giving into his demands, but Marik never dismisses him when they're at this stage and Bakura is so close. He's determined to tip Bakura over the edge. The teeth stay, a sharp and dangerous comfort, and Bakura whines, squeezing his eyes shut tightly. He thrusts up at nothing a few times and Marik takes that to mean he needs to be touched, hand sneaking over his head and past Bakura's leg and encircling around the forgotten cock with a strong and tight grip.

 

Bakura cums instantly. Marik doesn't even have to move. He still does though, rubbing him through it and tongue movements turning into long and slow licks as Bakura trembles beneath him, moaning brokenly. Marik gives a small and oddly contented sigh as he pulls his hand away, gripping Bakura's thigh instead in a smooth caress before letting go. His mouth trails away from the twitching hole and disappears from Bakura's skin entirely and Bakura assumes that's the end of it.

 

Then Marik presses his lips to Bakura's right butt cheek in an obvious pecking kiss and it's the only warning before two fingers breach Bakura all in one go. Bakura has barely left the clouds by this point and he chokes like he's just woken up from a dream, blinking quickly up at the ceiling. The fingers stay pressed together as they move in and out slickly. Marik mouths something pointless against his skin.

 

“Mmmmarik...” He can feel his cock already beginning to twitch again in interest from the sweet over-stimulation he's experiencing.

 

Then Marik bites him. _Hard_. Right where Marik's left his mouth innocently he's suddenly deciding to give him a hickey. Bakura vaguely hopes he's going to draw blood; make it bruise and hurt. It'll last for quite awhile. A lovely reminder of Marik's habits and how he's deliciously possessive of this particular spot of Bakura's body. Bakura privately admits to himself of being proud of the undivided attention. He's spent so much time craving it, he tries to bask in every second of it; he _earned_ this, dammit, let him bask.

 

Marik hasn't let up the fingers in Bakura; they still continue their pleasurable thrusting even as Marik's mouth stays occupied. It's not enough though, certainly not enough for Marik's own pleasure to be spending _all_ his time down there. Bakura won't be sated until he's got Marik's cock straining his insides and begging for release inside of him. He has a great need for this that seems to never be satisfied; always hungry for more.

 

Marik's mouth lets go of his butt but not before running a quick streak of his tongue over the bruised and ruined skin. Then he pulls his face up from the spot it's been in for the last while, now sitting upright between Bakura's parted legs, and Bakura comes to the sudden realization that Marik is _wrecked_. His cheeks are burned crimson, eyes dark with lust and unfocused, red lips bruised and shining, hair uncharacteristically out of place from Bakura's own hands, and his breathing comes out in great heavy gasps. He rubs the back of his free hand against his used mouth and swallows noticeably, leaning closer like he's about to tell Bakura a secret that only the both of them can know.

 

“I want to be inside you.” It's as much as a plea as it is a fact. It was Marik's own doing but it sounds like he's close to desperate. The idiot's gone and overwhelmed himself.

 

Marik doesn't have to say this but Marik is a speaker at heart and slow but deliberate with every action; he doesn't know how to speak with action alone and keep his voice unheard. He doesn't know how to speed up.

 

Bakura, on the opposite side of things, is both quick and action-oriented, and sometimes that's what Marik needs. Sometimes it's _Bakura_ who understands what _Marik_ needs better than Marik does. Often Marik lets Bakura remind him of this. Bakura takes the reigns gladly every time.

 

That's the explanation for Bakura's next actions. Even if it ends up surprising Marik; it was what Marik was asking out of him even if he doesn't realize it.

 

Bakura promptly sits up, meeting Marik's startled gaze for half a second before grabbing his shoulders and pushing his back against the bed. He wastes no time climbing on top of Marik and with familiar grace he pierces himself on Marik's cock in one go. Marik cries out in a crescendo, fingers grappling for purchase on Bakura's hips. Bakura runs his hands over Marik's chest and shoulders, pleased moans slipping out of his own lips as he moves over Marik's cock. It stretches him exactly the way he likes it and fills him up perfectly; his body takes it easily.

 

That's no small feat, by the way. Marik isn't exactly _average_.

 

Marik babbles beneath him, rocking up into every thrust against his own will. It is nice to be the one leading now but that's only happening because Marik wants it; this sudden roughness is Marik's own doing after all. Marik has too much control to let something happen that he didn't want to happen and they both know it. Bakura doesn't let up, he just moves, savouring every second of hard heat that he can. Subconsciously, he tunes back into Marik's rushed words, mildly curious about what he might be saying. It's actually coherent.

 

“--gorgeous. I should shine a spotlight on you-- oh, y-yeah, _you feel so good_ , keep that up! Nnnn, hah, you're relentless, dynamite, destroyer-- you take that s-so well, how do you do it? Bakura, _you're going to be the death of me_. Ah, frig, I don't have a spotlight! Oooh...”

 

Bakura bursts out into deep throaty laughter. Marik is the most ridiculous person to ever exist and Bakura loves him for it. The laughter eventually breaks off into an ecstatic moan when Marik's wonderful cock finds his prostate. He closes his eyes and lets the feeling overtake him.

 

“Marik.” He tries to put as much as he's feeling in that one name 'cause unlike Marik, he has very little words. Can't even find the motor skills to perform such an action. Not that he had ever had the words to describe his feelings when he didn't have a cock in him either.

 

Hands map the parts of his body that they can reach, careful yet purposeful caresses, like Marik doesn't want to miss anything. Bakura feels it stronger with his eyes closed and his breathing stutters in a funny way that has nothing to do with the exertion. He already knows what look Marik is giving him right now and he debates if it's worth a heart attack to check.

 

“Bakura.” Of course, Marik speaks, so now Bakura has no choice but to look at him, their eyes catching instantly. Bakura swallows at what he sees.

 

Sometimes Marik looks at him like he's all Marik's ever wanted; the type of open love and devotion that clogs up Bakura's throat when he gazes upon it. He flushes under it; can't even think. He doesn't even know if he's moving anymore.

 

It doesn't matter since Marik abruptly flips them over so Bakura is once again on his back, legs being pushed forward into his chest, Marik gazing down at him with single-minded focus. They certainly aren't moving now and Bakura's body protests the pause, but Marik is quick to remedy that by sliding himself back in and breathing sharp mint over Bakura's face. Marik's as close as he possibly can be in the position he's in, yet still Bakura prefers him to be even closer.

 

He grabs the back of Marik's head and forces his slightly parted lips to his own, licking his way past them to reach the tongue that had been working him so well earlier. He isn't certain if there's any remaining taste from before but it's probably for the best. The minty fresh overrides it, a taste he recognizes; he knows the taste of Marik's specific brand of toothpaste by heart by now. It gives him a bit of a thrill to have made it that far with Marik to be confident in something like that.

 

Marik's fingers are sure to leave bruises on Bakura's pale legs with how hard he's gripping him. Marik kisses him back with the same vigour he shows with anything else, rocking Bakura in such a way that makes his whole body move with it. Bakura's hands massage over Marik's broad shoulders before sliding down his back in a way Bakura knows makes Marik's breath catch with emotion. It's no different now. Bakura smirks.

 

Marik lets go of Bakura's legs and slides his own hands back up Bakura's body till he reaches his face, cupping it between his warm hands and rubbing his thumbs over Bakura's cheekbones as he tilts his head better to kiss him. It forces all the air out of Bakura's lungs through his nose and he squeezes his eyes tight like he can drown out Marik's overwhelming tenderness by will alone.

 

Bakura wraps his legs around Marik's waist now that he can and holds him close. If Marik wanted to pull away he wouldn't be able to. By the way Marik's muscles are beginning to tense, Bakura highly doubts he'll want to now.

 

Marik's hands leave his face and splay themselves on either side of Bakura's head and he pulls away from their passionate kiss, gasping for breath and pressing their foreheads together. His arms are shaking and he swallows. His eyes don't leave Bakura for a second.

 

“ _Bakura,_ ” he breathes.

 

Bakura licks his lips in anticipation, watching the emotions displaying rapidly on his boyfriend's face. One hand travels to Marik's hair, carding fingers gently through it. He tilts his head back and smirks lazily.

 

“Cum,” Bakura instructs.

 

Marik does. He moans as he does so, eyelids fluttering and slowing down his rocking as he rides himself out. He seeks Bakura out during it, pressing his nose into Bakura's cheek and nuzzling.

 

“Bakura...”

 

Bakura hums. He's probably far too pleased with having Marik's hot cum in him, but there's no one of significance here to judge him on that fact so he'll revel in it anyway.

 

Marik shifts and pulls away from him. Bakura feels a loss when Marik pulls out but doesn't voice his displeasure. Marik looks him over, licking his bottom lip. His eyes twinkle playfully before he's back between Bakura's legs to fix Bakura's problem. Hot heat wraps heavenly around his erection.

 

“Bloody hell.” Bakura is too sensitive to last after everything he's been through and he cums within a few moments. He settles against the sheets in deep satisfaction and watches behind half-lidded eyes as Marik sits up, swallowing and wiping his fingers over the corners of his mouth, smiling brightly. Bakura can't help but match the smile with one of his own, though his is much more small and quiet, lips twitching tiredly upward.

 

“Come here,” he calls, lifting his right hand and curling the pointer finger to gesture Marik over. Marik obediently follows and Bakura presses a chaste kiss to Marik's lips, hand slipping back into Marik's hair. He allows Marik to wrap his arms around him and pulls from the kiss, flipping them onto their sides, their faces close and staring openly at each other. It quickly turns into an actual staring contest.

 

“Give up, Bakura, you can't outmatch me in this. I've beaten you twice before.”

 

“That's right after me beating you five times before that or have you forgotten that, love?”

 

“That just means I'm the new champion! I have no chance at--”

 

“Marik, you just blinked.”

 

“What? No, I didn't! You're lying, Fluffy. You're trying to trick me into conceding defeat.”

 

“...”

 

“...Alright, you're right, I blinked. You don't have to give me that look.”

 

“What look? All I've been doing is staring at you.”

 

“Yeah, but you were doing it really intently. It's really hard to win against that. It's why I keep losing.”

 

Bakura chuckles, pressing their foreheads together and rubbing his thumb against the prominent pout of Marik's lips, his eyes flickering over Marik's face affectionately.

 

“Stupid. How do you think I feel? Your undivided attention is equally as distracting. You have no excuse, no ledge to stand on. I'm simply just better at staring contests than you.”

 

Marik's pout seems to deepen, clearly unhappy with the situation. Bakura rolls his eyes but he's smiling.

 

“Such a sore loser.” He looks at his boyfriend for a few precious seconds before slowly bringing their lips back together and closing his eyes contently.


End file.
